I am so sad, so very very sad.  You all are living your bloggy life and like I said in my last post I have had no time to make sweet, sweet love to your blogs. It seems that I have surrounded my self with a bunch REAL LIFE FUCKERS********* who don’t understand what a blog is. So I try to explain.

AVB: Honey do you realize that I was a part of the sexburger post that turned into Commentpalooza*** with @KeepingYouAwake.

TD: Sweetie I love you but the last thing I need is for you to keep me awake.

 TD: Oh hi, Old College Friend you remember AVB?
OCF: Oh yeah, what is it that you do again?
AVB: I run a boutique and I like to write kind of….
TD: My wife has a BLOG…
OCF: A what???
TD: A BLOG…A WEBLOG…       …       …    It’s like an online (oh my god don’t fucking say it) DIARY?
OCF: ohhhhhh. aaaaa. bloooooog.
AVB: *blinks twice* *downs wine while scratching back of neck* *crawls under table and drinks more wine*

 

 Flash forward AGAIN…sorry for all the time travel here but I feel left out of the Bloggy world and I am having complete and total separation anxiety and really want to get back…and the only way to get back is to slip through the open portal covered in mayo like lube.

It is Sunday… the plane hasn’t crashed. The doggies haven’t perished from the heat. The car started. We had the car keys to start the fucking beast and the lovely little percs are in full effect. We eat bad pizza, we drink decent wine (well I do since The Dish still feels ill from the moment we got on the plane, where he actually took out the barf bag but never used it! …yay more wine for me.) And I sit down to hear all about LOST. Uhhhh, what? And its about that time in the night when I am about to end the conversations with ANYWAY….(you know how people do that when they are trying to think of something to say? Like me on Twitter. After travelling to much higher altitudes for four days. In a plane. Loaded with Xanax. Stuffed to the gills since I haven’t pooped (not that I ever do that) since Wednesday. Having hydrated with Margaritas SANS SALT. With sick feet that need medical ointment*****?)  YEAH, that is how I tried to end the night, but instead I went to check my blog stats, which are totally in the  shitter…alone.

And that is when another piece of my walls fell off I think. And I am totally fine with it if you are reading this….But please know that somewhere in between the shy, hammered, altitudinally challenged wife of your college friend and the latex wearing pony humping freakazoid (*******) you are reading here…
lies me. 
Trying to find my balance.
 And at times that is very, very hard for me to do.

They say patience is a virture, so I am convinced I am a fucking virginal saint or what the fuck ever, since I keep waiting patiently (or is it…patently) for my balance….you know I used to be a gymnast.

***Not to be confused with Crapapalooza.
**** At least some one’s cock is getting sucked. (see last sortasentence)
***** Do any of you know what it is like to have high feet? Seriously considering moving to Boulder.
******* I have also received a prestigious award from Mid Western Mama that I have yet to respond to.  Time is  a funny thing. It wasn’t that long ago that she bestowed me with this honor yet I feel like an aging starlet already. (I promise when I have proper time I will accept your award with grace.)

********* I should clarify….I do not in anyway consider any one to  be a Fucker in my real life. Especially NOT The Dish.

P.S. My twitch in my left eye since February 23, 2010 that I wrote about a month later? Still here.

I once read in a magazine that the key to a happy lasting marriage was never letting your spouse see you pee. Yup. THAT is all it takes for wedded bliss for all of eternity. Who fucking knew. It’s the kind of thing that you can never get back either,  like your virginity…once they’ve seen you pee it is all over.

I have to say in the entire time The Dish and I have been together he has never seen me pee. Or poop for that matter….if I actually pooped.

But I don’t.

I can’t even believe I am actually sitting here (ON MY COUCH…SICKO) talking about these kind of bodily functions. I think I am blushing, but it’s dark and I have the shades drawn so those binoculars? Yeah they won’t work. 

About a month after we got together we took a trip to Mexico. You know the place where all things intestinal always run smooth and clean as a whistle. Yeah that place.  Our first full day we were there was gray and overcast so we decided to stock up on the necessities of  Beer and Doritos and drive as far south down the Yucatan until we found sunshine. (by the way do you know how fucking awesome Doritos are in Mexico?)

I came across this image at Eatmedaily.com and I am pretty sure this is how I felt eating the Mexican Doritos. AWESOME

Well we never found the sunshine that day but we did see a lot of bushes and stray dogs that were after my beer which I drank really fast so they couldn’t get it. Oh there were also potholes. GIANT potholes that the entire car would bounce up and down in like a van with two horny teenagers in it from the seventies. (not that I know what that looks like) I swear just typing this makes me have to pee like I did that day.  I also DO NOT pee out side. Why you ask? Or maybe you don’t, but I will answer that question anyway. Because I am a nervous wreck and besides going into pee shock which inhibits free flowing pee, I get worried I will pee on my ankles or that I will get caught. 

So the road winds along and pretty much the only thing I can see are bushes, potholes and Chupacabra in the bushes waiting to eat me.

Its either going to eat you, steal your soul, grab your ass or suck your goat dry.

The Dish? He doesn’t care one bit.  He stops in the middle of the road and non-chalantly gives the Chupacabra a golden shower and everything is fine and I can’t think of anything else except that by now everything looks yellow because I have the piss coming out of my eyeballs (except I don’t pee in front of anyone or outside so I am some how keeping the pee in my brain…heh, pee brain.)

I am sure it got very annoying to hear me squeal and squeak and pant all for only having do the pee and nothing else. So annoying that I was ordered to get OUT of the car and pee. I obliged but only after making him move the rear view and side view mirrors so as not to be able to see this delicate little flower defiling this beautiful stretch of DESERTED road. Just us and the Chupacabra. Also the music had to be loud so he could not hear the pee happening. I know I have issues, we can just get over that part right now. So there I am shorts and thongs down around my ankles hanging between the rear and front doors to get the perfect angle and trajectory so as not to pee on my ankles. And all I can hear is The Dish laughing which is usually music to my ears but somehow it was maniacal this time over the music. I kept saying “you better not be watching me mother fucker!”  Lucky for him he wasn’t.  And lucky for THE MOTHER FUCKING COUPLE IN THE CAR THAT WAS STOPPED BEHIND US!

You see this, this…this is why I DON’T DO THIS. Don’t you know you always bring about that which you fear. I quickly stand up to avoid any more junk exposure, pull up my shorts only to realize I have not grabbed the thongs, and yes it really is a  pretty picture to have your thongs around your ankles and your shorts around your hips with both the crotches in a tangled mess right about your knees. So I had to pull my shorts back down…grab onto the thong AND the shorts pull them back up and get in the car to punch The Dish repeatedly calling him a Mother Fucker.

Oh did I mention we were driving as far south down the Yucatan as we could unitl we found a place to stay…which happened to be the ONLY place to stay. So where the hell were the couple behind us going?

Sigh.

I geared my self up to be all ‘haaa haa haaa’ elbow in the side  ’don’t worry honey I am sure your boyfriend will get over seeing that and is still in love with you.’

You know what the sad part was?  They could have cared less that I just gave them MY money shot. The one and only money shot there is of me.  And I kind of felt let down afterwards. Like there should have been more fan fare or toilet paper…or something, anything.

I mean anything. They could have at least offered to light my cigarette.

P.S. I had a horrible night sleep last night thinking that since I had written out Chupacabra multiple times I had somehow summoned one to suck out my eyeballs while I was sleeping. (it was either that OR my xanax wore off around 3 am because I only took a half)